What Starts in the Kitchen
by luxorius
Summary: Ron lends a helping hand when Hermione needs it and Hermione learns more than just new cooking techniques.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** So, as I am no longer a virginal fanfictioner I'm going to embark upon this story. _I know _there are thousands of "Ron's a good cook," "Ron loves food," "Tee-hee Hermione needs help in the kitchen" stories but I've just can't help myself. I am adding to the deluge because I love food and cooking probably as much as I imagine Ron loving it. And because I'm getting married in about a month, I'm equally obessed with Ron and Hermione's budding adult relationship transitioning into the well-worn comfortability these things settle into after time. All this to say: I know there is a lot of similar stuff out there, but please take the time to peruse!

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Bad, this is bad. That was the only cogent thought that formed in Ron's head as he took in his surroundings after apparating home early. He knew he should have flooed before leaving work. Black smoke billowed from the stove as the smoke sensing charm's shrieking filled the room. Red sauce clung to the walls and ceiling in a pattern that reminded Ron of a recent auror case. Hermione was hunched over the cutting board, oblivious to the surrounding cacophony, methodically slicing a carrot into symmetrical half moons. Ron silently cast the smoke sensing charm off. He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve and opened the stove. A gale of smoke stung his eyes. With a flick of the wrist, Ron levitated the incinerated, unrecognizable mystery meat towards the counter.

"BLOODY HELL!" The shout startled Ron and the hovering pan crashed to the floor. Scalding bits of charred meat and vegetables splattered across Ron's bare arms and face.

"FUCK, HERMIONE!" Ron grabbed the nearest bit of cloth, the table linen, and began to blot himself dry. Hermione turned to face the shout, finally realizing she was not alone. She held her left hand to her chest and stared at Ron with wide eyes. "How the hell did you manage to cover yourself with the sauce, too? Oh. OH!" Realization dawned on Ron as he leapt to Hermione's side. He gingerly held her bleeding hand and muttered the healing incantations. Ron couldn't tell if her cheeks were flushed from the heat in the kitchen or embarrassment. As he worked, her head remained bowed, her breathing irregular. When he finished, he lifted Hermione's healed fingers to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss against them. "See, love? All bett…" Ron was cut short by the shrill, banshee like wail of the smoke-sensing charm.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" Hermione yanked Ron's wand out of his hand and flicked to turn the charm off so forcefully that the only remaining pot on the stove soared skyward and landed on the floor with resounding clang. Hermione glared at the overturned pot as if it were Bellatrix Lestrange. Taking a deep, calculated breath, Hermione slapped Ron's wand back into his hand and tore her eyes away from the offending pot. She turned on her heel and stomped out of the kitchen. Ron followed, keeping his distance. He wanted ample space and time to react to whatever she did next.

"I don't understand what went wrong," Hermione said in a quiet voice. Ron could not tell if she was directing this at him or at no one in particular. He figured it was best to assume the latter. "I followed all the directions. Everything was right. Everything was..." Hermione collapsed, defeated onto the sofa. "I just, I mean…" Hermione lifted her head towards Ron and accused, "Why in Merlin's bloody name are you such a good cook and I'm such a lousy one!?"

Ron winced at the barb but said nothing. Hermione had cursed three times in the last five minutes; there was no way she thinking rationally and arguing with a rational Hermione was difficult enough. She dropped her head back on the cushion and closed her eyes. Ron took the cue and headed back into the kitchen and began to clean the mess. After half an hour, Ron had repaired most of the damage. Despite Ron's best attempts at "tergeo," a few stains lingered. Those would have to be cleaned by Hermione when she calmed down. Reminding her of yet another one of her superior skills Ron hoped. He grabbed two wine glasses, and after filling them liberally, crossed the sitting room towards the sofa. Hermione's anger has dissipated but Ron was not pleased by its replacement. Even though her eyes were still closed, he saw a vulnerability etched in her frown that he had not seen since she destroyed the horcrux in the Chamber of Secrets years ago. He knew how hard it was for her to admit that there was something she couldn't do. Letting him see this side of her meant the world to him.

"Love, you're being too hard on yourself." Ron sat down next to her. "You can't be brilliant at everything." At this, Hermione lifted her eyelids and scoffed. Ron showed her the wine glasses in his hands and she reluctantly sat upright before taking the offered beverage.

"Thank you," she muttered. They sat in silence for a few moments. Hermione seemed too preoccupied swirling the wine in her glass to venture into conversation. Ron did not have to wait long, though.

"I know it's stupid, alright. I know you love to cook and don't expect me to be another Molly Weasley. But if I don't cook, I want…I want it to be because I **chose** not to, not because I am incapable of making a meal that does not end it flames and bloodshed." Hermione stared at the ruby liquid sloshing around in her glass as she continued. "Mum said it was simple, easy, foolproof even. She said there was no way I could botch that roast recipe." Ron tried to remember the charred blob he pulled out of the oven and imagine how _that_ was supposed to be roast, but pushed the thought out of his head. "I guess she was wrong. I'm obviously the exception to foolproof recipes." Hermione turned to Ron and pleaded, "What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing!" Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Okay, maybe something. Cooking isn't just about following directions, Hermione. You have to be open to change and evaluate what you're making _as_ you're making it. You have to be flexible. You have to know what is essential and what is secondary to the recipe. You can't be afraid to trust your instincts and ignore what's written down for you."

"Easier said than done." Hermione said, still watching her wine. "Ron, that all sounds great but I have no idea what that means. How can I trust non-existent cooking instincts? I have no cooking instincts!"

"I'll teach you," Ron stated with much more confidence than he felt. "Think of all the times you've helped me. Merlin, Hermione, I'd still be trying to get past my third year at Hogwarts if I didn't have you to help me."

"Ronald, you were always perfectly capable of doing your schoolwork. It was never a matter of intelligence, you just needed some encouragement."

"Exactly, and this is no different. You just need some encouragement." Hermione frowned. "Oh come on, how horrible could it be having me as a teacher."

"Need I remind you of the last _four_ times you tried to teach me how to ride a broom." Ron paled but recovered in what he thought was a suave manner.

"This is going to be in a kitchen, not twenty yards in the air. It will be different. I promise." Hermione searched Ron's face.

"Okay," she conceded, setting her glass on the small table next to the sofa. Hermione turned and jabbed her finger roughly into Ron's chest. "But I swear, Ronald Billius Weasley, you tell a soul and I _will_ hex you." Ron smirked but knew that was a mistake when Hermione poked him even harder. "That means not Harry, not Ginny, and please, for Merlin's sake, please not George." Ron raised his hands in defeat.

"I heard you, love. No one." Hermione sighed in relief. She picked up her discarded wine glass and drained the remaining liquid in one gulp. When her head returned to its upright position she had an entirely different look in her eyes. It was Ron's favorite type of look. Hermione plucked the wine glass from Ron's hand and set it next to her empty one. In one fluid motion, she pushed Ron's back against the sofa and straddled him. She placed her mouth next to Ron's ear. Her hair cascaded over his face and he breathed in the wonderful smell of her shampoo.

"I guess the only think left to discuss is what we're going to have for supper tonight," Hermione whispered. "I know what _I _would like for dessert." Hermione started to unbutton his shirt. "Ron, may I have my dessert before supper?" Ron's stomach growled loudly and they both collapsed into laughter. Ron kissed the top of Hermione's head.

"For supper, love, I say we order take-away. But I promise, I'll save room for dessert."

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**A/N (take 2) **Okay first, I know that dessert is usually called pudding in the UK but Hermione using pudding as a euphemism for sexy time sounded unbelievable raunchy. Secondly, please check back for more chapters/updates. And thirdly, please review and tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: So it's been while, huh. Thank you so much for everyone that left a review or put this story on alert. I'm sure you all thought that you would never see a another chapter! Life got a bit crazy; getting married, moving, and starting a new job screwed up any semblance of order my life had there for a while. This chapter is dedicated to my very good friend anaviddaydreamer. I forgive her for holding a pair of my shoes hostage because she writes and recommends such wonderful stories for me to read. (I'm knitting you a special scarf as we speak! Hopefully it's still cold the next time I see you, ha) Also, this chapter is dedicated to the lovely person who I can only guess is named Anna, because you let me know you were still interested in this story when I was ready to lead it to the pasture. You're great!

P.S. Also sorry if anyone got a billion "new chapter updates." My computer went a little wonky this evening.

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Ron leaned his forehead against the window pain and furrowed his brow as the condensation dampened his eyebrows. Outside the glass, rain fell in dense sheets. He could just make out several muggles racing along the pavement under their dark umbrellas. It had been almost a week since Ron had seen blue sky and he was going crazy. He was getting restless. Ron wiped his forehead dry on his sleeve and turned around. Hermione was comfortably wedged in her favorite chair with a book. She was still wearing the old Chudley Cannons tee she had slept in. She thought he was teasing her last night when he had said it was sexy. Ron couldn't understand why women wasted their money on complicated lacey things. He couldn't think of anything sexier than Hermione wearing his clothes, that is, if she had to wear anything at all. He crossed the room and collapsed into the chair next to her with an exaggerated sigh. "Merlin, why is it still raining? This whole bloody island is going to sink into the ocean."

"Hmm? You say something, Ron?" Hermione's eyes remained fixated on her novel.

"Oh no, it was nothing. Just mentally thanking Fred and George for throwing me into the pond when I was five to 'teach' me how to swim. They told me one day I would be grateful and they were right. I'm just worried about Harry, you know; he's such a ruddy swimmer without gillyweed." Hermione put her hands over the pages and looked at Ron.

"What are you on about?"

"Do you think I should floo McGonagall and ask her to transfigure our apartment into massive boat or do you think I'd have to draw up dimensions first?"

Hermione stared at Ron for a moment before returning to her book. "Honestly, I don't know what you have against the weather. I've loved days like this since I was a little girl."

"Of course you have. Your idea of a "lovely" day is reading a book you've already read ten times before. When I was little, rain meant I couldn't do _anything_. No Quidditch, no swimming, no playing in the yard. Imagine being stuck inside the Burrow with my family for six, long, inescapable days. Dad would work overtime just to get out of the house. We used to drive Mum mad. She'd yell at us when we were too loud and she'd yell at us for being too quiet because she thought we were plotting something." Hermione laughed.

"She was probably right. Smart woman that Molly Weasley."

"Yeah, wonder she likes you so much, though," Ron smirked. Hermione pretended to look offended before returning to her book. "Hermione?" Ron rose and stood in front of her chair. "Love, you've been reading all morning…"

"…and you've been asleep all morning."

"Which means I haven't had breakfast either, so you have a very bored, very hunger husband on your hands." Hermione snapped her book shut and looked up.

"Alright Ron. You say you are bored?" Ron nodded enthusiastically. Hermione stood up slowly and placed the book on her chair. "You say you are going nutters with the weather outside?" She traced her fingers down Ron's chest as she continued. "And you need something to take your mind off of it?" Ron nodded again as Hermione twirled his hair between her fingers. "And you say you are hungry?" She ran her finger along his warm skin beneath the waistband of his boxers. "Well then I suppose there is only one thing to do." She placed her lips next to his ear and whispered, "Teach me how to cook breakfast." Ron released the breath he didn't know he was holding in a hiss as he glared at Hermione who was failing to contain her smirk.

"Hermione, I know I said I would teach you, but, well that was before it had been raining for days and it had been a fortnight since we bought groceries."

"Oh, so are you saying Ronald Weasley, chef extraordinaire, can't improvise?" Hermione turned to enter the kitchen and continued over her shoulder, "Can't let your cooking instincts guide you, eh?" Ron opened his mouth to retort but thought of a better idea. He leapt forward and grabbed Hermione's bum, giving it a rough squeeze. Hermione let out a loud, "OH!"

"That is for being so _cheeky_," Ron said with a grin as he strode past her. He felt Hermione squat his bum in retaliation.

"Well," she shouted at Ron's retreating back, "I've had the world's finest tutor in the subject!" Ron's laughter soon died when he opened their bare cupboards. They were down to the absolute basics and even those were getting scarce. Ron racked his brain for something, anything. He saw some bananas that were only a quarter brown and was finally struck with an idea. He grabbed the half-eaten jar of Nutella and pulled the flour and salt from the cupboard. He opened the fridge, pushed aside the take away containers and pulled out milk, eggs and butter. He set them on the counter and turned to Hermione who was watching him intently.

"It's a surprise," he said, obviating her questions. "Can you grab two mixing bowls, one big, one small, and whisk for me?" Ron watched as her bare calves flexed and the round curve of her bum peeked out from beneath the frayed hem of his shirt as she stood on her to toes to reach the bowls. _This_ was why Ron loved that Canons tee. Hermione set the bowls on the counter and turned to Ron with a quizzical look on her face.

"Alright, Ron. What am I making?"

"Crepes," Ron said with a flourish. Hermione's face fell.

"Crepes? I thought you were going to start off with something on a beginner's level. There is no way I can make crepes. I can't even boil water."

"Look, they are not difficult to make, just intimidating. Remember when you gave me that muggle book about fie-col-ogee to help with my spider phobia…"

"Psychology?" Hermione chuckled.

"Whatever," Ron mumbled. "Well, they talked about exposure and you have to face your fear and so that afterwards when you're still there, you can see how your fears are unfounded." Hermione smiled. Ron, who could see she was clearly impressed thinking he had actually read the book, was internally grateful to whoever wrote the informative summary on the book jacket.

"Alright then, tell me Chef Ronald, what is my first step." Ron motioned towards the smaller bowl.

"You are going to mix what I measure. Ready?" Hermione nodded and in a few moments all the ingredients had been sifted and measured. Ron leaned against the counter to watch Hermione stir the batter. With each whisk, her breasts bounced under the thin shirt. No, _this _was why Ron loved that Canons tee. It was threadbare and Ron could just make out the faint, dark outline of her nipples.

"When do I stop?" Hermione's voice jolted Ron out his meditation.

"You're done for now. We have to let the batter rest." Ron took the bowl from her arms and placed it in the refrigerator.

"Why do we—" Ron grabbed Hermione's hips and held her against the counter. His hands began to creep up her legs, following the curves of her thighs.

"Because," Ron started as he pushed the hem of the orange tee higher, "we have to follow our _instincts _in the kitchen." Hermione threw her head back in laughter and Ron kissed her exposed neck. He firmly grasped her hips in lifted her so that she was sitting on the counter. Hermione latched her legs around his waist and pulled his shirt over his head. With one hand, Ron traced figures between Hermione's thighs while the other cupped her breast. His thumb ran circles around her nipple until he could feel it harden through the thin material. Hermione traced her fingers up his spine, making Ron's skin feel on fire in their wake. He pressed his palm against her breast and kissed down her neck, following her delicate collarbone. He felt her small hands grasp his neck and then tangle themselves in his hair. He slipped a hand beneath her bum and pulled her even closer. Hermione reached to remove her shirt but Ron caught her wrist.

"Leave it. You can take it off later," his voice rumbled. Her hand changed its course and slipped into his pants towards a new destination. Hermione grasped between his legs and with the other hand pushed his boxers to the floor.

"Well, somebody's clothes had to come off," Hermione reasoned as she began to pump her hand. Ron pulled her against him and slipped his hand between her legs. With a swift motion, her underwear was pushed aside and his fingers were enveloped in warmth. Hermione arched against his chest and he felt the hardness of her nipples pressing through the tee. In a moment their hands were synchronized and Ron could feel Hermione's breathing becoming ragged like his own.

"Love, I don't know how much longer..." Ron started but was silenced by Hermione's lips. She removed his hand and placed it on her hips.

"My thoughts exactly," she moaned as she guided Ron inside her. Hermione braced herself against the cupboards behind her as Ron continued his fierce rhythm until he collapsed with a cry against her chest. Hermione kissed his sweaty forehead and whispered into his ear, "Now about these clothes I'm still wearing."

***

"Well, at least the batter got some rest for the last few hours," Hermione yawned as she cinched her robe tighter. "I'm so hungry I think I could eat hippogriff."

"Welcome to my world," Ron laughed. He extracted the chilled batter and placed it on the counter. Ron found their widest, shallowest pan and put it on the heat. He motioned for Hermione to stand beside him in front of the stove. "The first crepe is always a tosser, no matter how skilled the cook is. It's a tester--too much batter, not enough, too much butter, pan too hot—the first mistake, the tosser, teaches us everything we need to know to make the rest of the batch perfect. We'll call it the Krum crepe… OW! " Ron rubbed the welt rising on his arm from Hermione's pinch.

"You're unbelievable, you are," Hermione tried to scold but couldn't keep the smile out of her eyes. "Continue please, I'm starving." Ron dropped a ladle-full into the hot pan and adroitly pivoted it so that the batter coated the entire bottom. He turned to Hermione who was rolling her eyes.

"Alright showoff, how am I supposed to know how to flip it?" Ron pointed to the small bubbles that were beginning to form in the center of the crepe.

"Watch for the bubbles and see how the very edges are started to pull away from the pan? That's your sign." Ron loosened the crepe with a spatula and in one fluid motion lifted it into the air, flipping it in the process. Halfway through its rotation however, the crepe tore and half landed back in the pan in a heap while the other flopped on the floor. Hermione didn't hesitate before collapsing into giggles. With tears still streaming from her eyes, she silently cast a cleaning spell and dispelled both halves of the failed crepe. When she had finally caught her breath Ron turned to her.

"Like I said the first one is always a tosser," Ron chuckled and added under his breath, "Bloody Krum crepe."

"Well of course it was ruined," Hermione started, not hearing Ron's addendum. "It wasn't cooked all the way through because you practically poured the whole bowl of batter in the pan!"

"Right! Exactly right. So what should I adjust for the rest of the batch?" Hermione took the ladle from Ron's hand. She measured only two-thirds of what Ron had and poured it into the hot pan, swirling the batter like Ron showed her.

"It's not round like yours," Hermione pouted.

"Doesn't matter once is smothered in Nutella, promise." Hermione, always the dutiful student, waiting for the crepe to bubble and when she flipped her crepe, it landed perfectly back into the pan. She squeaked in victory and waiting for Ron to signal it was time remove the crepe to her waiting plate. As soon as Hermione slid the crepe from the pan to the plate she shrieked.

"I did it! I did it!" She threw her arms around Ron who had started to laugh. "I made something without catching the kitchen on fire or needing a healer!"

"And," Ron smiled, "It's something we can actually EAT!" He dodged another pinch and kissed the crown of Hermione's head on his way out of the kitchen. Thankfully, he knew his wife well enough to duck after he called back, "Now get to work, woman! I'm starving!"

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Thanks for reading! Please review!


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